Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ailis heard about the raid before the sun had fully set. The news reached the keep with the riders, carried from mouth to mouth until the kitchens, the hall, and every passage seemed to hold the same frightened whisper.
The village had been attacked.
“Such a thing hasnae happened in years,” Jane told her as they strolled the halls. “Nay since the Dragon became laird after his uncle. The other clans fear him… They dare nae attack us, ever.”
“Then who would do this?” Ailis asked, even though the question bewildered everyone.
She stood beside the kitchen table with a bowl of barley in her hands, staring at nothing, wondering how Gordon would handle this. He rode out of the castle hours ago, and the tension had been evident in how the guards moved around, patrolling every corner of the grounds since then.
She listened to the servants talk about the raid, worry spiking through her as she pretended to stay calm.
“They took children, too?” Ailis set the bowl down so quickly that barley spilled over the rim.
“Aye,” someone responded.
“A lass. She was taken after they destroyed her parents’ cottage.”
“Do ye believe the Laird will find her?” another asked.
“Aye… The Laird always protects his own.”
Their hushed chatter continued as she tried to stay focused.
That lass will be so terrified, or worse, hurt.
Ailis could not sit still and do nothing. She had no idea what she could do, but sitting back was no better.
And I daenae wish to simply be sheltered while everyone else works.
“I need to help,” she said out loud before she could stop herself.
Jane caught her sleeve. “But how?”
“I can carry food, linen, or whatever is needed to the village and give it to those who need it. Surely, that has to count?”
Jane shook her head. “Aye… but I daenae think the Laird will want ye in the village, Ma’am. It is nay safe. They daenae ken who was responsible for the raid yet.”
Jane has a point, she thought. And besides, she still feared saddling a horse alone, so she would need a carriage.
Her frustration rose hot and helpless.
“I cannae simply sit here while people are cold and hungry.”
“Ye can still help, me dear…” Marion’s voice came gently from behind them.
Ailis turned and saw her in the doorway, her hands folded before her.
“Marion,” she exclaimed, lowering the bowl she held to walk to her.
Marion crossed the kitchen and took Ailis’ hands. “Come here, lass.”
Ailis allowed her to take her hands. “What can I do?” she asked and hated how small her voice sounded. “I daenae wish to merely sit back and do nothin’. The villagers need all the help they can get.”
“I ken. They have lost their homes, and most of them are terrified. They need more than just someone to protect them right now. They need someone who will also care and understand.”
Ailis held Marion’s gaze as she waited for her to say more. Marion’s expression remained calm though worry had settled into the lines around her eyes. “But there are many ways ye can be of help without puttin’ yerself in danger.”
Ailis frowned, but Marion gave her a small smile.
“Since ye came here, have ye noticed how many of the men speak to one another now?”
Ailis glanced toward the kitchen doorway. “I thought they always did.”
“They didnae.” Marion touched her arm. “Ye brought them together with that supper ye made everyone share in the yard. They have spoken of naught else since that night.”
Ailis’s throat tightened. “So, do ye think I should perhaps bring everyone together again tonight?”
“Nay, child… I mean, the villagers need food, and a way to feel like they arenae alone. Grain, bread, warm clothin’… That will do good for them right now, and ye can help organize all of that. We’ll send the men into the village.”
Ailis liked the idea, and a flutter of anticipation instantly flooded her insides as she nodded. “I can do that,” she breathed out.
Marion smiled again. “Then what are we waitin’ for?”
The kitchen changed within minutes. Ailis moved through it with a purpose that surprised even her, taking charge and ordering the servants on what they needed to do next.
“Mairi, how much barley do we have?”
“Enough for a large pot, Ma’am.”
Ailis pointed toward the bread next. “And as much bread as the ovens can manage.”
Jane said next. “We have blankets in the upper stores.”
“Bring them,” Ailis answered. “We will need them all.”
Soon, everyone was working together to make it all possible, and Ailis stayed through it all, making sure nothing was amiss.
When it was finally over, and Marion had ordered some guards to take it all into the village, she ordered a servant to prepare a meal and took it to Gordon’s chambers after she had freshened up in her own.
She wondered if he would return tonight as she went up to his chamber.
The chamber was empty and dark. The bedding was smooth and untouched, as if he hadn’t lain on it in a while.
It looked cold and empty as her gaze traveled over every corner.
There was a large table, and maps spread out on it.
She spotted a sword lying in a corner and a few books.
There was nothing else, no flowers or hearth where he could make a fire.
A shiver raced through her as she took in all of it. There were no family portraits or carved toys from childhood. Even the flowers and paintings she had moved in here to irritate him had all been moved out.
Ailis remembered his words as she realized how empty the place looked.
‘Me uncle took me when I was a wee lad. He taught me to be strong.’
A slow ache opened in her chest. “What did he do to ye?” she whispered to herself.
Ailis moved toward the chest she saw in a corner and ran her fingertips over the cold surface.
“Ye are a dragon, are ye nay?” She looked around the empty chamber. “A cruel man who fought his own brother for land. Yer own people fear ye.” She looked toward the door as her throat tightened now. “So why do I keep thinkin’ there is more to ye?”
Her curiosity made no sense.
Sighing, shy pulled open the first drawer of the chest and peered inside.
To her shock, a collection of small items lay inside.
There was a worn leather strap and a silver trinket shaped like a stag.
She reached toward it then stopped before touching it.
Beside the trinket lay a painting which caught Ailis’s attention.
Ailis lifted it carefully.
The parchment had browned with age. The woman in it was hazy, painted with an unsteady hand, but Ailis could make out her face. She had soft eyes and red-gold hair that framed around her gentle smile.
Ailis’s breath left her as she noticed the woman in the painting wore the trinket in the chest.
Who was this woman to Gordon? A lover maybe?
That one thought filled her with a bothersome pang, even though it should not. He probably had taken many lovers over the years. Unlike a woman who would be ruined if word of it were even heard, a man had always had much more liberties.
The thought stuck Ailis beneath the ribs. Her stomach tightened so sharply she had to draw a breath through her nose. Suddenly, the idea of Gordon’s hands on another woman seemed unbearable. His mouth on another pair of lips…
Kissing her like he did me…
Her fingers curled into her skirts. A hot and vicious heat curled through her chest so immediate that she pressed a hand there as if she might physically hold it still.
She sat slowly on the floor then pulled open the chest’s second layer.
Her fingertips trembled around the next painting in there. It was the same woman, and even though the strokes were faint, there was a tenderness in the brushwork.
I cannae believe Gordon paints.
It was a passion she had always cherished, and seeing that he shared it made her wonder what else there was about him she did not know.
The thought made something strange flutter beneath her ribs.
His collection included paintings of hills, rivers, and Highland lands lush and green. Some were barely sketches while others were completed works. She spread them across the floor, one by one, studying the stroke patterns and running her fingertips over the dried lines.
Why is there nay single paintin’ on his walls?
Why did he keep such a talent hidden?
Ailis did not know how much time passed as she sat there and looked through them all. All she knew was that Gordon, the Dragon, was not the man she thought he was.
Gordon returned to the keep long after dusk.
The raid had left the village in a state of misery.
Three cottages had been burned beyond repair, two families were sleeping beneath borrowed roofs, and Malcolm had taken men east along the old road to search for those responsible.
They found the missing lass with the men who had taken her, not far from the Eastern borders.
The lass was too terrified to speak for now, but he intended to speak to her when she had recovered in the healers’ chambers. Her captors were in his dungeon, and his men were currently interrogating them.
Perhaps there is a way I could have better protected the villages? A way I would have predicted this would happen?
He thought of countless things he could have done differently and could not come up with any.
There was no way he would have known someone planned to attack his village, and even with his men on patrol, it had happened because he was not on high alert. Gordon had learned to always be watchful. But of late, his attention had been divided between other matters.
Ailis… Even now he thought of her. As if he was not tired and aching enough, he remembered her kiss. All I want right now is silence.
His chamber offered that, or it should have, but Gordon pushed open the door and stopped because he sensed a presence. His hand instinctively reached for the sword at his side. For a moment, he thought someone had broken in.
Then he saw her. Ailis lay asleep on the floor beside the open chests, his paintings scattered across the floor around her.
Sweet heavens.
His breath caught at the sight of her.
She had curled onto her side with one arm tucked beneath her cheek, her hair spilling around her face in soft brown strands. Several paintings lay scattered near her though most had been gathered into little piles as if she had been studying them one by one before exhaustion had overtaken her.
Moonlight spilled through the narrow window, touching her face. It was the only light Gordon needed. He had never slept by a hearth’s heat anyway.
Gordon forgot the village, the raid, and everything that troubled his mind just at the sight of her.
His chest ached now, and he did not understand why.
She looked peaceful in her sleep, and he could not bring himself to disrupt that.
Gordon stepped into the room, closed the door quietly behind him, and crossed toward her.
One of the paintings lay beneath her hand.
He recognized it at once.
Me mother.
The painting was poorly done. He had been young when he painted it, and by then, his memories of her had already begun to slip away. He had painted what he could remember: the color of her hair, the shape of her eyes, the gentleness he could no longer quite recall but had carried all his life.
Alistair had called it a waste of time.
Paintings will nae make ye strong. Fightin’ will.
He had taken the brush from Gordon’s hand and broken it across his knee. Gordon had never painted again or looked at his paintings. Until now, when Ailis had found the pieces of his childhood hidden in chests and spread them across his floor like treasures.
His gaze returned to her. She had been looking at them, and now, she had seen the part of him he never allowed anyone near.
A strange vulnerability opened inside his chest.
He crouched beside her and lifted a hand, but it hovered close instead of touching her face. One curl had fallen across her cheek. His heart hammered so fast, he nearly forgot how to breathe. Exhaling deeply, he finally brushed the strand away from her face.
Ailis made a small sound in her sleep, her lashes fluttering before settling again.
Gordon’s hand remained suspended near her cheek.
His thumb moved before reason could stop it. It touched the edge of her lower lip. It was soft and warm. His thumb lingered on it for one heartbeat as he recalled their taste and the way she responded, melting into him.
I want to feel that again.
Then Gordon pulled his hand away as if he had touched flame.
Saints.
He looked at her mouth again, and longing moved through him so sharply that he had to close his eyes.
If he merely wanted to kiss and touch her again, then it would have been easier. Instead, he wanted to hear her laugh too and simply watch her paint with Lileas or walk around the grounds with Marion.
“Nay,” he whispered to himself as he realized what was happening.
I cannae want those things.
Ailis stirred on the floor, and he worried he had woken her.
He immediately bent and slipped one arm behind her back and the other beneath her knees. She was lighter than he expected.
The moment he lifted her, she instinctively moved toward him. Her arms slid around his neck. Gordon froze at the contact of her bare skin on his neck.
Her cheek pressed against his chest, and her breath warmed the side of his throat.
He inhaled before he could stop himself. His body stirred in the most delicious way possible. She smelled warm, like heather and lavender.
Her scent moved through him like fire beneath ash. His body tightened even harder, and his heart began pounding so hard he was certain it would wake her.
Gordon carried her to the bed slowly. Her arms remained around his neck until he lowered her gently onto the mattress. When her hands finally slipped away, he felt their absence immediately.
He covered her with the sheets. Then he stood there, staring at her while breathing hard.
What am I doin’? What madness is this?
She looked too small beneath them. He wanted to climb into the bedding and hold her close, but of course, he could not.
He walked to the door and pulled it open, but Ailis murmured his name in her sleep right then, and he froze.
“Gordon,” she muttered again, the breathless sound taking him by surprise. His hand froze on the knob.
Is she dreamin’ of me?
His pulse hammered, and he closed his eyes for a heartbeat, dragging in air to fill his over-labored lungs.
I am doomed, he thought as he closed the door again and walked to the narrow settee in the farthest corner of his chamber.
I will only sit here until she awakes… to keep an eye on her.
Gordon told himself that, but as he settled in to watch Ailis sleep soundly under the covers, a small smile lifted his lips, and soon, he was lost until the day’s exhaustion pulled him under.